


Captain's Basement Log

by lha, vintage1983



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Crack, Lorca in my basement AU, Niche audience, Ridiculousness, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-03-19 00:05:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13692654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lha/pseuds/lha, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintage1983/pseuds/vintage1983
Summary: In the spirit of absolute silliness, probably for a very niche audience and full of very British references.Prime Lorca is in my basement...Do not read!*rating upped for some innuendo...it was always going to happen!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, this all got out of hand very quickly...  
> To make sense of my nonsense feel free to follow me on Twitter @Vintage1983V, or if you want to keep your sanity, perhaps best not!

Captain’s Log

Star Date- unknown

 

After an encounter with an unidentified space anomaly I find myself held prisoner by an unidentified captor: species unknown. My jailer is female and speaks a mysterious language, similar to English. So far I have worked out that ‘are ye alreet hinny?’ is an enquiry about my welfare and ‘are ye clamming?’ relates to hunger. Initially I refused to eat, but my captor was most insistent I had a ‘Hobnob’ and a ‘brew’. Hobnobs appear to be an oat-based biscuit. While they provide little nutritional value, they are pleasant and provide energy for planning my escape.

So far there has been no hostility. My captor refers to me as ‘pet’. In this primitive culture this seems to be a term of endearment. My prison was referred to as a basement, however it is small space underneath a staircase she refers to as the ‘Harry Potter Cupboard’. Harry Potter also appears to be a figure of extreme cultural significance and is mentioned frequently.

\---------

I fear my torture will be psychological in nature. I was allowed out of my cell this morning, offered more Hobnobs and was made to view ‘The Jeremy Kyle Show’. Those creatures were awful. I wish Kat was here, she’d know how to cope with ‘I’ll prove I didn’t poo in your garden’. I did learn that this species may be facing a population crisis as, regardless of physical appearance they all seem to have numerous offspring. Perhaps this is why I have been brought here. My captor also apologised for the lack of variety in my diet and told me they needed to go to the ‘ASDA’ but it was snowing. I’ve deduced I am on an M class planet, based on the weather and atmospheric conditions. Perhaps the ASDA is where leaders are located. I might be able to find equipment to escape and return to my ship.

 

______

I am no closer to escape. My captor was incapacitated as she had ‘been at the gin’, but I was unable to make it to the door. There is a male here, who seems resigned and oppressed. The threat of being ‘nagged’ seems effective in maintaining control. I am yet to experience this form of torture. I feel pity for the male, he seems relatively sane and tolerant of the female's lunacy. This is certainly a matriarchy. In an inebriated state my captor revealed her species as Geordie. She was specific in saying she was not a Mackem. These are the sworn enemies of the Geordies. Perhaps there is a civil war taking place.

I have been allowed to bathe (I’m sure she was perving through the door), but not allowed to shave. At first I believed this was to prevent me from acquiring a blade, but apparently it is because I look ‘canny fit with a beard’.

I can hear the Jeremy Kyle theme tune….I am in a spiral of despair.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More nonsense I'm afraid!

I feel that I have gained the trust of my captor. I asked if she knew what had happened to my ship. She said she didn’t know and it was in the hands of the writers and producers. These are clearly powerful figures. She said several of her kind had asked on my behalf, but the knowledge is classified. I will continue to investigate.

She was inebriated again. This time she had ‘been on the wine’. Since it was Thirsty Thursday, I was offered a beverage and a kebab. The food was terrible, but after 5 or 6 of ‘Mr. Vintage’s Brown Ales’ it improved considerably and I managed to eat it all. I worry it contained poison, as my digestive system seems to be rejecting what I consumed.

_______

I was ushered out of my cell this morning and told to bring ‘Henry’ as it was housework day. Henry is my cellmate. He is clearly mechanical in nature and is unable to communicate, but may yet be sentient. Henry was forced to clean the floors as some sort of punishment. I was given a duster and told not to ‘skirt round the ornaments like Mr. Vintage’. I complied with the request.

Later in the day, my captor became fearful and told me to keep out of the way. She said her ‘Mam’ was coming and would disapprove of my presence. I hoped this woman might be able to aid me in my escape, however it seems this elder is most proficient in administering ‘nagging’ torture, and did so for at least an hour. She also appears to have some sort of ESP and detected my presence immediately. I asked her if she knew about my ship. She told the younger female she was an idiot if she was thinking about downgrading to a sailor, when she lived with an accountant. Oral histories are also important to the elder as she told stories about what my captor did in 1987.This displeased my captor greatly. I also fear for ‘Doris’ who is in a bad way and may be another Star Fleet captive. Doris is suffering from terrible bunions and is housebound. Perhaps if I could get a message to Doris we could escape this Godforsaken world together.

 

                                                                                          ________          

I was relieved when the male came home. My captor appears to be becoming ‘frisky’ and asked me if I had a pass out. I tried to explain I had been conscious at all times, but there seems to be a problem with translation.

My diet has been expanded to include snacks called Kit Kats and Wagon Wheels. She also said she might crack open a box of Quality Street left over from Christmas if I behaved myself.

I also overheard that I may be ‘loaned out’ soon.

I fear I may not see home for some time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guest Author alert :D

Captain’s Log

Stardate - Still unknown

It appears that this loan may be some form of prisoner exchange as the female is now ‘feeding me up’ and I have been provided with fresh clothes for the trip. I had assumed that this was to insure a good impression on my return but having dressed I am more suspicious of their intentions. While the dark undershirt is unremarkable, the trousers make my uniform ones seem a generous fit in comparison. She also keeps suggesting that I will need all my strength for the trip.

___

Having now endured the trip, I can understand why it was that they might think that. I was blindfolded throughout but the surface of the terrain we covered was atrocious. The volume of traffic suggested that this was some form of major highway network though. Whether it was the recent increase in my rations or a lingering effect of the poisoning I’d earlier suffered combined with the tumultuous journey I don’t know but by the time I reached this secondary location I was sick as a dog. 

I can only remember brief glimpses of the outside; I was sat on a stone wall at one point while I lost the remaining contents of my stomach, then forced to climb endless stairs until I reached my final destination. My new cell, was I think a wardrobe in another life but I was encouraged to rest on a makeshift bed of what must have been formalware of some type and I was draped in a blanket covered in various insignia that smelt strongly of wood smoke. I must have slept because I woke what felt like hours later, my head over a handily placed basin and throwing up again.

\----

Here the beverage of choice seems to be mint tea, and I am constantly being encouraged to eat dry crackers and broth. This would be an unappealing diet in most situations, but as I seem unable to stomach even these, the idea of a hobnob and a cuppa is less appealing. My current jailor seems to vanish for extended lengths of time and while she is always very solicitous of my condition I’m not sure she is entirely genuine in this concern. I have discovered a series of medical texts, which while arcane they reveal an unhealthy interest in the abnormalities of the human condition. When questioned however, she claimed to work in an area referred to as systems. I can only assume that this is akin to Operations. 

Not only does my digestive tract continue to suffer (at this point I am surviving on something that appears to be called orange squash and is some form of fruit flavoured oral suspension) but I wake in the night gripped by the most terrible nightmares. I’m not sure how, but this woman seems to know everything about the very worst aspects of my past. The walls of my cell are papered with the faces of the Buran, there are drawings of relationships I’ve never had but that somehow have sparked a sense of longing in me that leaves me hollow and so much more miserable than before.  


When this new jailor opened the door this morning, she took one look at me and with what I can only describe as being a gleeful smile called me ‘Her perfectly angsty wee lamb’ and declared that I was absolutely ‘fit for comfort’. I can’t be sure what this means but I can only hope I’m being returned to my original captor and that the journey back will be kinder to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank God he's back to the safety of the Cupboard, poor baby!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kind words and kudos. I genuinely thought this had an audience of 3. Thanks to lha for giving it the angst and suffering, bless the lad he's back where he's loved, but with extra tight pants and a bit more gratitude!

Star Date- Friday

I am pleased to be back in the relative safety of the ‘Harry Potter cupboard’ and I am glad to see my original keeper. I feel weak and thin after my experiences during the loan and am heartened to see some Hobnobs and an episode of Homes Under The Hammer. The female here, who I believe may be called ‘wor lass’ based on some of the conversations I have overheard seems pleased I have returned. She asked if I was given a ‘battered Mars Bar’ while away. While I feel rather battered, I am unsure what this is and she offered to acquire one from the ‘chippy’. ‘Wor Lass’ appears displeased that I look ‘as rough as a badger’s behind’ and she is reluctant to send me away again.

I have been allowed to make use of the ‘huffy bed’ during my convalescence. This has been more comfortable than the cupboard, but my concern for Henry is growing by the day. I heard Wor Lass telling the male to ‘change Henry’s bag’. My poor fellow detainee has evidently become incontinent since I last saw him.

My gaoler has been most attentive since I returned, offering soup and mopping my brow. At one point she was most insistent I needed a bed bath, but I was able to deter her.

She has also told me that when I am up to it she will be encouraging me to undertake some daily exercise, as I need to stay ‘a bit buff, but not too buff, for reasons.’ Most of her conversation is cryptic, however I am becoming more adept at deciphering her strange language.

Apparently tonight is something called ‘lads night’ and the male will not be present. My abductor seems very pleased about this and keeps winking at me. She says she has been to ‘Marks and Spencer’s’ and got us a ‘dine in for two’. She said if it doesn’t work out it’ll be her and the rabbit again and mentioned ‘shares in bleeding Duracell’. I have seen a dog, however I have not encountered any other animals and fear for the welfare of the rabbit. I am also suspicious as she has wrapped me up in a blanket very similar to the one I encountered on my travels. When I asked about the insignia, she explained the meaning of some of them. Many related to survival skills such as tying knots, outdoor cooking and camping. I must draw the conclusion these hostage takers have had more military training than they are letting on and that my journey and incarceration ‘over the border’ is an attempt to break my spirit.

__________  

 

Wor Lass showed me a documentary called The Star Wars. I am intrigued by the technology on display, in comparison to the primitive conditions I am held in. Apparently it was vital that we skipped the prequels, so I am not fully acquainted with the political context, however it is evident that a ‘Jar Jar Binks’ is some sort of enemy of the state. Her description of this character was so expletive-filled and venomous he must either be a terrifying villain or a renegade hero. Perhaps contacting this rebel may help me escape tyranny. If only I could locate one of their X-Wings, or the Millennium Falcon I may be able to re-join the fight against the Klingons. Yeah those guys, I forgot there was a war on.

I have also asked why my pants have to be so tight. Wor Lass also keeps asking me about a leather coat. She says I looked ‘proper tasty’ in it. Having explained several times I have never owned this coat, I am beginning to fear cannibalism may be acceptable in this culture. There seems to be no issue with eating other animals. I have been asked several times if I fancied eating the female’s cat (another thing that is mentioned, but still unseen) and she laughed that I was lucky to have missed out on ‘scoffing one of Saru’s mates ‘cos they looked all chewy.’ I was reluctant to eat the lasagne.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks for the kind comments and kudos. I am pleased to know this has made people laugh!  
> I may continue to update this, as and when silly ideas pop into my head. 
> 
> Let's hope they take pity on him and do bring him back, otherwise poor old Prime Lorca may endure the eternal torture at my house!

I feel I may have bonded with the male Wor Lass refers to as Mr. Vintage. He warned me to keep a low profile this evening as ‘The Harpies’ would be descending on the house. He left for ‘a few pints in the Club’. I asked about the Club and he informed me that it was the Working Men’s Club, but was ‘a breach of the Trade Description Act, round here, pal.’ This was a potential route out of the house, however he said there was a ‘turn’ on and he wouldn’t be able to sign me in. My next task is to try and discover more about this secretive society and its members. Capitalising on the opportunity, I asked if he knew about The Star Wars technology. Mr. Vintage told me he didn’t know about that, but there were a good few Star Wars bars in the town. After the exchange we were interrupted by my captor. When I escape, my plan is to locate these bars. Apparently two women known as the ‘Town Bikes’ will be more than willing to assist me in any way, in exchange for a Bacardi Breezer, a bag of Pork Scratchings and a packet of Regal King Size.

__________

Mr. Vintage was right. ‘The Harpies’ were three formidable females. I was placed in my cell and told to keep out of the way of one named Paula because she was a ‘right randy mare’. I could hear cackles and screeching from the area known as ‘the front room’ which Wor Lass usually insists is kept pristine and for ‘best’. Later in the evening I was paraded out in front of the other females who demanded ‘selfies’ and kept asking if I was ‘the stripper’. All were severely inebriated. I did take a keen interest in their communication devices and managed to acquire the one belonging to Wor Lass while they were trying to perform a manoeuvre they called the ‘running man’ to some ‘Throwback Rave’. It doesn’t appear capable of sub-space communication, but given time I may be able to modify the device. I have accessed its memory banks and discovered something called Twitter. My captor uses this frequently to communicate with others. I believe this was how my transport over the border was arranged. I am alarmed to find a disturbing number of pictures which appear to be of me, but in locations I have no memory of visiting. Perhaps I have lost parts of my memory or have been drugged. I must go, Wor Lass is returning and appears angry, urging me to shut up and ‘stop breaking the 4th bloody wall’.

 

___________

Wor Lass was displeased today, as she had to go back to work. I was left in the cupboard with Henry. I believe he is too traumatised to communicate and has retreated into a state of meditation. I was left some biscuits and told to eat them up ‘because we are going on a bloody health kick, whether he likes it or not’. I believe this means my Hobnob supply will soon be depleted. I was also left a bucket and instructed to ‘try not to nip one off’ until she returned. I was left a tin of ‘Air Wick’ for ‘emergencies’.

When Wor Lass returned she was agitated and short tempered. Apparently this woman is allowed to work with juveniles despite evidently being unstable. I also became aware of a sinister and shady organisation called ‘OFSTED’. According to the information I have gathered their sole purpose is to make people miserable. Wor Lass says they may be coming soon and everyone is busy ‘shitting themselves about it’. I may have to fashion a weapon to protect myself, should they appear unannounced. She is also extremely aggressive towards the ‘tossers’ who have stolen the wheelie bin. This appears to be a lawless and morally bankrupt society.

Wor Lass said she had been to the gym and needed a Marlboro and a glass of wine to recover from the experience.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor old Lorca is still trapped at my house, now doubly trapped by snow!   
> More ridiculousness ensues!  
> Thanks to everyone for the kind words and kudos.

Star date- Snow day

Wor Lass has become increasingly concerned about the arrival of the ‘Beast from the East’ and ‘Snowmaggedon’. She has sent Mr Vintage out to get extra bread for the freezer and milk since ‘the bloody idiots will all be shopping for the End of Days’. I am unclear how this culture believes bread and milk will be of any help, should the Armageddon be upon us. It appears my captors are likely to become the captives when the ‘Beast’ arrives. Wor Lass appears insistent that there will be ‘snow days’ and she ‘won’t be turning out in this, it’s coming down like stink and blowing a hooley’. I have come to understand that the weather plays a significant role in this culture and forms the basis of most conversations. My fear is that these ‘snow days’ will impede my ability to work on my escape plan, as my captor will be present at all times.

The male is now being reprimanded for returning from the shop with 24 cans of Stella, a multi pack of crisps, a cheesecake, a copy of Auto Trader and 8 tins of hotdogs. After initially complaining that Mr Vintage should stop buying ‘shite’ as she is ‘on a bloody diet and will never wedge her fat arse into a Star Trek uniform’, apparently, there is also nothing in the bag to make a dinner out of and men can’t be trusted to do unsupervised shopping.

____________

 

We have been holed up in the house for several days now. My captor is now refusing to get dressed and is permanently wearing a large, pink fluffy dressing gown with the hood up, shuffling round like a ‘camp grim reaper’. She is threatening to buy me a similar item and says, ‘all you need is a good dressing gown and the fire on.’ The ‘health kick’ is cancelled until it warms up a bit and although there are no Hobnobs, she seems content to plough through the cheesecake that caused so much hostility. The weather still dominates all conversation. I am bored.

___________

 

Wor Lass has perked up significantly. She says Mr Vintage is a ‘nutter’ who has ventured to work, despite weather warnings and is now ‘out from under her feet’. I have been advised not to get my hopes up as it is ‘the wrong week’ and the ‘decorators are in’ so there will be no action. I am none-the-wiser, however she is now eating more cheesecake and sobbing after viewing a 30 second film about a donkey sanctuary.

Today we are ‘binging Doctor Who’. This appears to be the life story of a man with a blue box who is able to change his face and travel through time and space. I have been warned I may need fresh underwear when the ‘Weeping Angels’ arrive. I am intrigued by these Daleks. They are a war-like race of machines that appear to be totally destroyed and yet find a way to return in significant numbers five episodes later. They appear frequently. Wor Lass says the rumour is this is contractual obligation but does not believe this is true.

I have also been allowed outside. After being wrapped up in one of Mr Vintage’s coats and a luminous pink scarf and gloves I have been encouraged to build a snowman. Wor Lass was very keen that I pelted the ‘nosey gits with the hideous flashing Christmas lights over the road’s house’ with snowballs. When we returned to the house I was offered hot chocolate. My captor became most insistent I could do with a nice hot bath and was eager to scrub my back. Again, I managed to fend off these advances.

____________  

 

I have been dragged urgently from the Harry Potter cupboard and ordered to bring Henry. Wor Lass says we must clean the house as the ‘Mother-in-Law’ is coming to stay and the place is a ‘ruddy tip’. I have been instructed to get scrubbing and to get right in the corners. Henry is being dissected in the utility room. My keeper says this is because he is ‘bunged up’. It seems wise to follow instructions carefully to avoid a similar fate, my present diet is having a similar impact on my digestive health.

I have also been instructed to keep a low profile over the weekend, as the Mother-in-Law will only be disappointed I am not Gerard Butler and will want to know how to acquire him for the airing cupboard. I feel I should make an attempt to warn this male he may be the next kidnap victim.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lorca is taken on an excursion to The Bigg Market, on a cold and rowdy Northern night out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kind comments and kudos, as always this was created out of some Twitter ridiculousness. Much love to my little gang.  
> Also, for those who have never visited, Newcastle is genuinely a boss night out and has something for everyone I promise!

Star date- the weekend

Wor Lass is very excitable. Apparently Mr. Vintage is away on a stag do this weekend at ‘the 80s weekend at the Blue Dolphin’. She says it will be more like the ‘Blue Oyster’ and he will be getting ‘tea bagged by Big Richie’ in the middle of the night if she knows anything. Whatever this suffering entails it seems the source of great amusement, but I have been assured I am safe from this. I was also invited on this excursion, as ‘Wally’s lass has put a veto on it’ and there is a spare mankini on the go. Wor Lass it seems also possesses a ‘veto’ and told Mr. Vintage under no circumstances was I being taken into that ‘den of iniquity’. I was disappointed, but after the mini-bus arrived with a hairy, male bottom pressed against the back window, I felt a sense of relief that I would not be part of this event. Escape would also prove difficult as there was much discussion of ‘bringing the handcuffs’ and a plan to strip someone and tie up them somewhere on the caravan site.

After the male had left on the bus of doom, Wor Lass informed me she was planning a ‘canny little weekend’. I feared the harpies may be returning, but apparently Paula has the flu, Stacey has a new bloke and won’t be seen until it all goes ‘tits up’ and Katie has ‘buggered off to Benidorm’. I am informed that I need new clothing and ‘iron guts’ for this venture and she has expressed concern that I have been stuck in the house too long and the cupboard is getting a bit fusty. It seems likely I may be moved soon, as she suggested I might ‘get a bunk up somewhere more comfy while he’s away’ and the subject of a pass out was revisited.

___________ 

 

Wor Lass instructed me to go upstairs and do the ‘3 S’s while she sorted out the 3 Fs’ and get ready for a heavy session. I found this alarming and also had no idea what they were. After looking blank for a moment, they were explained as the essentials for an evening ‘on the pop’. Finally, I gathered that these are a shit, shower and a shave. The 3 Fs still elude me; however, I understand they relate to body parts. This woman is uncouth to say the least. I was offered a selection of Mr. Vintage’s shirts. All appear to be virtually identical and black. Perhaps, this is a uniform he must wear. My enthusiastic captor instructed me to choose one, but probably best to tuck it in, as Mr. V is a big fella. She seemed excessively pleased with my outfit, stating that at least she was consistent and ‘had a type’. She also seemed to think I would feel at home with these wardrobe choices, although I have no idea why.

Once ready, a taxi arrived, driven by ‘Big Dave’ who would do ‘mate’s rates’. His conversation suggests Wor Lass wields some sort of power in the community as he referred to her as ‘boss’ and kept asking if he could have more school contracts. He talked incessantly throughout the journey. I am informed that this is typical of taxi drivers who have ‘a monopoly on talking shite’. I was also told to keep a low profile and keep my head down as ‘the f-ing curtain twitchers will be watching the comings and goings’. I wonder if I am in fact safer with my present captor than elsewhere. Based on my ‘loan’ experience, it does appear to be a more appealing option and only being the occasional victim of minor sexual harassment and a poor diet cause me any distress.

Our destination was the ‘Bigg Market’. Wor Lass informed me that it was ‘a bit like that place out of the last episode, but I wasn’t in that one so never mind’. The advice was to treat it as an anthropological study, to take note and probably best not to be going on about ‘space ships and aliens and that,’ other wise they might think ‘we have tin foil on the windows’. She says she absolutely won’t be able to bust me out of ‘Bedlam’ if I get sectioned. I was also issued a stern warning about running off because I would ‘get eaten alive’. She said I looked ‘well tasty’ again tonight, I do think cannibalism may be a thing here.

The Bigg Market is a lively venue. There is a prevalence of blue women in skimpy clothing, who I thought may be at least half Andorian, but apparently coats and tights are for softies and Southerners. Weather conditions were Arctic; however, these women were more than equipped to withstand the bracing temperature in a vest, mini-skirt and pair of sandals. Wor Lass says she usually goes somewhere ‘a bit classier’, but this location was far more amusing. I was fed an interesting beverage referred to as a ‘Dog Bomb’. This local delicacy is a regional variation on a Jager Bomb but made with Mr. Vintage’s Brown Ale which I have grown fond of. It had the flavour of a medicinal cough mixture. After some needling to get it down my neck and stop drinking like a girl, I did manage to get into the spirit of the occasion.

I was taken to ‘Pop World.’ I did ask if this was another planet and Wor Lass confirmed this, stating ‘well aye it’s definitely another planet, pet.’ Despite this, it appeared to be another rowdy bar with similar patrons. At one point I was instructed to act like ‘she was my bird’ as she had attracted an unwelcome Klingon on the way back from the toilet. I instinctively reached for my phaser, but apparently this was in fact a ‘cling on’ who ‘couldn’t take the bloody hint.’ I suspect my captor rather enjoyed the pretence and seemed to keep it up for a significant amount of time after he had left. I was, however, most grateful to be rescued from an intimidating group of women in pink feather boas and cowboy hats. Their leader had a large badge with the letter ‘L’ on it. Perhaps this is a special rank.

The latter parts of the outing are somewhat blurred, as I did eventually find myself slightly inebriated. Wor Lass assures me that my ‘Dad dancing’ to ‘90s cheese’ was most acceptable. Piecing together clues from some events has also led me to believe this species are of British descent. The importance of forming an orderly queue and perceived queue jumpers in ‘Munchies’ while we were waiting for our ‘Parmo’ and cheesy chips (apparently acceptable even though one is ‘Smoggy’ and the other is a bit ‘Mackem’) led to some colourful language and an aggressive response.

‘Big Davey’ arrived in our ‘shuttle’ and told me to ‘drag her in before it goes up’. Wor Lass complained throughout the journey that we needed a transporter because she was ‘busting for a wee.’ Back at the house, despite her best intentions to ‘put some tunes on and have another drink’ and numerous requests for me to ‘not spew up on the carpets’ and ‘stop being boring and get my kit off’, Wor Lass passed out on the sofa, snoring heavily. I fear my chance to escape has been squandered, as I myself, succumbed to the intoxication of the Dog Bombs and awoke this morning to a surprisingly cheerful captor advising me to have a few brews and a massive fry up.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been sometime since Prime Lorca has updated us on his captivity in Northern England...  
> This wasn't my intended writing for tonight, but here it is anyway.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for the kind words. comments and kudos. I am still amazed at how much one throwaway remark has snowballed. Feel free to follow me @Vintage1983V and the rest of #teambasement on Twitter for similar levels of common sense, seriousness and sombre musings ;)

Captain’s Log

Stardate- summer I think.

It has been some time since my last log entry. I have reached a companionable understanding with my captor which means I get through the day with minimal sexual harassment and a steady supply of biscuits and Brown Ale at weekends.

I endured an unpleasant bout of an illness Wor Lass named as ‘Man Flu’. Apparently, this has a severe impact on males, yet the females are expected to continue as normal. I was able to fight the alien virus with some help. Wor Lass offered me a large box of ‘Kleenex’ to blow my nose and afterwards advised me to keep the remainder for ‘other needs’. My captor was most attentive to be fair, feeding me a strange orange liquid by day and a green one by night. The green variant was particularly potent and she was most amused and stated it was hilarious I was ‘off my tits on Night Nurse’. Despite it being the summer on this planet and her insisting I looked a bit hot, I noticed during my convalescence in the ‘huffy bed’ she had turned the heating up, gave me a hot water bottle and kept putting extra blankets on the bed, before advising that I was too warm and encouraging me to undress in order to cool down. When I suggested an adjustment to the climate controls in the house and reducing the number of blankets from five to two, she chose not to heed my sound and logical advice. She also said she knew someone who would be loving all of this angst and would have been ‘dropping stuff’ in my dinner to ‘prolong the agony. This brought back memories of my time spent across the border. In fairness, I was quite well looked after, although when I thanked her my captor’s offer to purchase a nurse’s uniform if I was ‘into that sort of thing’ seemed rather excessive. Once recuperated, I suggested I return to the Harry Potter cupboard to check on Henry.

Wor Lass is planning to go away very soon with ‘the girls’. She said she had considered taking me with her but was not one for sharing and muttered something about ‘doing a lot of bloody spade work for nothing’. She also became worried that leaving two unsupervised men alone for at least 48 hours was a perilous endeavour. Concern seemed to centre around starving or burning the house down. I did attempt to remind her that prior to my captivity I was a Starship Captain, however she replied that Mr Vintage was an ‘f-ing accountant’ but that didn’t mean he could iron a shirt. I was forced to concede that I do not possess that skill either. On balance she has decided to risk the house and attend the event alone. I had been given strict instructions that I am responsible for the state of the house on her return (though I suspect the male has been given similar instructions) and I should prepare for a few days of beans on toast and lager. I was also instructed that if anything is damaged by an influx of ‘lads’ to the house I must be like bamboo. Apparently, this is the biggest grass. I was also instructed not to tell Mr. Vintage I was getting a ‘blue-giro from the Feds, nudge, nudge wink, wink.’ I have no idea what this means, though I suspect this implies I am an informant.

I am absolutely certain this is the summer time of year. For a species which has continually complained about cold and snow for much of my stay, the nature of their complaints has now turned to the heat. Apparently, it is now too hot to work, sleep and ‘be bothered’. I estimate the temperature is a moderate 25 degrees, but I am unable to work out if this an extreme for this planet, or I am simply surrounded by people who like moaning about the weather. I was encouraged to get out in the back yard and ‘get a tan’ and alerted that ‘sun’s out, guns out’. I immediately switched to high alert, fearing this was a time of violence, however I have been reassured this does not pose a threat to anyone, other than the ‘waft of a local scruff’s arm pits when you’re near the cider in ASDA.’

I am informed that the ‘World Cup’ is taking place. I feared this would be a blood thirsty fight to the death for competitors, based on what I have seen of this society, however I am relieved to learn it is recognisable to me as soccer. I was allowed on an outing to the local pub. This was a fascinating event from the perspective of an anthropological study. In this culture, sporting events are celebrated by consuming alcohol to the point of vomiting, followed by kebab meat, chips with garlic sauce. A clear hierarchy existed within the pub environment. Despite their being very few available seats, we were able to secure some with little difficulty. I enquired if this was an indicator of importance, but apparently this a privilege for ‘regulars’ or ‘pissheads’. Senior elders were most noisy and vocal, although I am amazed at the power of ‘Old Bob’ who could part the rowdy crowds to make his way to the toilet. Wor Lass advised me not to make eye contact with ‘Conspiracy Theorist and bullshit enthusiast, Young Mickey’. I did manage to catch a few words with this man in the gents and he advised me to acquire tin foil from the kitchen drawer to help ‘boost alien signals.’ I will heed this young man’s advice. Wor Lass says we will be returning to the pub in the next few days and hopefully Young Mickey can further aid my escape efforts.

There have been hints that my captivity may end soon and Wor Lass assures me the plan must be ‘to fetch you back because you’re the best one’. She says I must be patient and trust Ted. I have almost given up hope. I am also informed that if it isn’t this year, I may have to find work to ‘earn my keep’.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Captain's Trailer Log](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13971567) by [missalexandra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missalexandra/pseuds/missalexandra)




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